Reza Zarabi gets down in Iran:
Having been in Shiraz, Esfahan, and now back in Teheran, I can easily conclude one thing: Iranians still party like no other. See, it works like this: If you go to a party or a club in Ibiza or Madrid, you usually come home at 10:00 a.m. the next morning, but in Iran you come home the following week. There are no clubs or bars in Iran (that is common knowledge to most of the world) but really nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to a house party in Teheran.
Every repressed attraction to the opposite sex, every urge to have a beer with your lunch, every desire to have a “happy hour” after a long day’s work, every desire to give your partner a kiss at a restaurant forms into a tidal wave of absolute debauchery consisting of heavy drug use, massive alcohol consumption and, unfortunately, not-so-safe sex. With unemployment so high, inflation that doesn’t cease, and a generation of youth that have lost ALL hope in their national government, the best thing you can do, for the time being, is pour yourself some illegally imported Russian vodka, light up a cigarette, and watch the world, as you know it, go to hell.